Life Must Go On, Though Good Men

A Poem From Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was It For This I Uttered Prayers, And Sobbed And Cursed And Kicked The Stairs, That Now, Domestic As A Plate, I Should Retire At Half-past Eight?

Beauty In All Things-no, We Cannot Hope For That; But Some Place Set Apart For It.

The Fabric Of My Faithful Love No Power Shall Dim Or Ravel Whilst I Stay Here - But Oh, My Dear, If I Should Ever Travel!

You See, I Am A Poet, And Not Quite Right In The Head, Darling. It’s Only That.

He That Would Eat Of Love Must Eat It Where It Hangs.